


He Drives Me Crazy (That Boy in 512)

by ConsultingWriter



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Big Dorkface, Erik is a Sweetheart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2172303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik might be a bit in love with his neighbor, Charles Xavier, even though he's never actually talked to him. Based on the song El Chico Del Apartamento 512by Selena </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i> Charles Xavier had recently moved into apartment 512, and he'd been driving Erik crazy ever since.</i><br/><i>The boy—obviously still in university—played malt shop oldies and psychedelic rock at three in the morning, walked his dog—a round, stumpy legged, furry caterpillar looking, white and orange thing—in the middle of the day dressed in pet costumes, read abnormally thick scientists' biographies in the middle of the hallway, and was too adorable for Erik to even get properly annoyed at.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	He Drives Me Crazy (That Boy in 512)

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, yeah, I love Selena and I love the song El Chico Del Apartamento 512 and this is what happens when you give me a keyboard. 
> 
> Un-beta'd

 

Erik tilted his head back and rested it against the cool metal of the elevator; he could close his eyes for a second, just to rest them.

The elevator dinged when it reached his floor and roused Erik from the light dose he'd managed to fall into. He rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heels of his hands and sighed; fuck Emma and her schedule, he was going to sleep for the next week straight.

The doors slide open and Erik pushed himself away from the wall, adjusting the strap of his leather messenger bag as he stepped out into the hallway.

A whistle off to his left greeted him as he did and Erik rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored the lewd gesture. Azazel was a Russian who was built like a bulldozer and had been living in the apartments as long as Erik; they'd eventually struck up a routine in which the other man would hit on Erik in various ways—some of which included pinching his ass, running a hand down his chest under the guise of dusting a strand of hair from his shoulder, and wolf whistling any time Erik was in sight but not close enough for the other man to cop a feel.

After a moment of thought, however, he shot the Russian the finger and smirked when the other let out a faux wounded noise. As far as neighbors went, Azazel wasn't that bad.

Behind him the elevator let out a hum as it was called to another floor, a sound that went completely ignored by Erik.

Halfway to his own apartment (and his bed within) the door to his right swung open and the flat's owner stepped out like a waiting vulture from Hell.

"Ah, Erik," the man—Sebastian Shaw, Erik's former senior English seminar professor—purred out.

Erik intended to ignore the man, just as he had tried to do ever since his graduation nearly five years ago, but his plan was foiled by the man reaching out and grabbing his wrist in an iron grip.

The old bastard was still stronger than he looked (which was part of the reason that Erik still took so much satisfaction in the fact that he'd broken the man's nose once the grades for his final semester had been submitted). He frowned and tried to pull his wrist from the man's grip without much force behind it; Emma would be pissed if someone called the police on him for assault—again.

"Now Erik, is that anyway to treat your mentor?" Shaw asked, tightening his grip, "After all the things, I've done for you? I think you owe me a bit more gratitude than that."

Erik's frown deepened, Shaw had taken interest in him when he'd first started college, a lonely German student with a thick accent and a desire to get through his four undergrad years and into a quality grad school for a PhD in English, but Erik's life had been harder for it and he knew he didn't owe Shaw shit. The man sneered when Erik told him as much and threw Erik's wrist away like it had personally offended him.

"Oh Erik, why must you continue to play hard to get? I could give you anything you wanted, if you'd just step inside, hm?" Shaw pushed his door open wider and Erik stiffened. Shaw had made him the same deal on his junior year, and he'd said no then too.

He took a step back "I really don't want anything to do with you and I'd appreciate it if you could just go to Hell," he said gruffly.

The other man frowned in return "You'll give in one day, Erik, when you realize trying to be an author won't get you very far."

I'll kill you first. Erik didn't get the chance to voice the thought because before he could open his mouth to let the retort roll off his tongue the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, distracting him from the conversation.

His blood rushed through his veins as his heart started to beat just a little bit faster. He mentally cursed himself and turned his attention back to Shaw, trying to ignore the person that had just stepped into the hallway while hoping Shaw hadn't noticed anything off.

Charles Xavier had recently moved into apartment 512, and he'd been driving Erik crazy ever since.

 The boy—obviously still in university—played malt shop oldies and psychedelic rock at three in the morning, walked his dog—a round, stumpy legged, furry caterpillar looking, white and orange thing—in the middle of the day dressed in pet costumes, read abnormally thick scientists' biographies in the middle of the hallway, and was too adorable for Erik to even get properly annoyed at.

He gave Shaw a curt look and turned away from him, praying that the bastard hadn't noticed Erik's lapse in attention—Shaw was a powerful man and he could make Xavier's life in the apartments very difficult.

With that he turned and set out down the hallway once more, hopefully he would be able to finally get to his door (and bed) in peace.

Luck had, apparently, finally decided to weigh down on his side, because he managed to slip into his living room without any other distractions.

 With a sigh he leaned against his door and covered his eyes with his hand. He was exhausted and his fucking crush, on someone who was practically a kid for fuck's sake, was getting ridiculous.

Slowly he pulled away from the door, locked it with a flick of his wrist, and padded to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

When the glass was empty he set it in the sink and trudged to his bed room, pulling his clothes off and dropping them on the floor along the way.

He collapsed in a naked heap on his bed and sighed again as he reached out to grab a pillow and shove it under his head; he couldn't even muster up the effort to climb under the covers but fell asleep on top of the comforter instead.

Erik awoke hours later to the sound of his phone ringing loudly. He ground and rolled away from the noise, hoping it would stop soon.

He closed his eyes once more when the cellphone finally fell silent only to snap back open when the phone started to ring again.

Erik rolled back over and snatched it off the edge of the bed where it had landed earlier. A glance at the screen showed that it was Emma calling and he groaned before hitting the answer key.

"What?" he snapped ungraciously.

"Now Sugar," Emma hummed over the line "Is that anyway to talk to your manager? I think not."

"It is when the manager in question is a heartless, slave driving, bitch."

"Well don't hold back for me Sugar," she sounded amused, which only served to irritate Erik even more.

"What," he ground out, "do you want?"

"What I _want_ ," she stressed "is a client who isn't constantly a pain in my ass, what I'll take is you telling me when your next manuscript will be ready."

"It'll be ready when I finish it."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know, soon, hopefully."

He could almost hear Emma's teeth grinding in frustration "I need something better than that, Erik."

Erik sighed and dropped his hostility "I honestly don't know, Emma, I've hit writer's block and I'm trying to work past it."

And by 'writer's block' he meant that ever sex scene he'd written ended up being about an adorable, young, brunette being completely dominated by the tall, tough-as-nails, female protagonist instead of the buff, retired boxer that was supposed to be her partner-in-crime and lover.

He'd written—and rewritten—at least three separate sex scenes and the name 'Rory' always turned into 'Charles' almost immediately. It was getting tiring and driving him mad, and Erik was starting to wonder if a good anonymous fuck was what he needed to get Charles Xavier out of his head.

After a moment of silence, Emma sighed, "Okay, fine, just get it done as soon as you can, okay?"

"Of course."

He pulled the phone away from his ear, ended the call, and dropped it back on the bed carelessly; he was still tired, but too awake to fall back asleep.

With a growl Erik rolled himself out of bed. If he wasn't going to be able to sleep he might as well do something productive(-ish) with his time.

He pulled on a pair of soft pajama bottoms and padded to his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Once he settled into the chair behind his desk he pulled the bottom drawer open and pushed the binders and loose leaf pages to the side until he reached an inconspicuously purple spiraled notebook.

He pulled it out and flipped through the first few pages; they were filled with letters to Charles, letters Erik would never actually send.

Slowly he caressed the dried ink of the last letter before flipping to a fresh page and pulling a calligraphy pen out of the desk's middle drawer.

He'd written all the letters in the neat, practiced script that he'd learned from his mother as a child. It was most likely disgustingly romantic, but he couldn't bring himself to care; it made him feel closer to his mother, like he was sharing his life with her even when she was gone.

_I want to know what that creature-you-call-a-dog's name is and why you dress him in costumes._

_I want to know why you sit in the hall and read biographies on scientists, of all things, and why you listen to records—are they even records, or did you cop out and download digital copies?—that are twice your age._

_I want to know if you hate coffee or if you just prefer tea, since that's all I've ever seen you drinking when we pass each other in the hallway, and I want to know if you feel as out of place in America as I do—that accent is very attractive, more so then I feel comfortable with._

_I want to know what you look like one the verge of sleep and if you'll wake up with dried drool on your cheek and bed head._

_And I want these things more than I want to run my hands all over your skin and to taste the dips in your collarbones._

_Is that creepy? I think it is._

Erik put the pen down and dropped his head in his hands. What was he doing? Fantasizing about someone he'd never even talked to? What the hell was wrong with him?

He pushed himself out of his chair abruptly. He was going out. He was going to go out, get roaringly drunk, and sleep with the cutest brunette he could find.

With that decided he buried the notebook underneath the contents of the bottom drawer and tucked his pen back in the carefully organized center drawer.

Erik popped his back and hummed in relief at the feeling before making his way back to his bedroom.

It'd been a while since he'd done anything but hole up in his office or spend the day lounged out on his couch. Maybe that's why he'd been so focused on Xavier lately, his libido might not have been the raging ball of lust he'd seen in other men his age, but he still had one and he supposed it needed to be satisfied on occasion.

 He lazily pulled a t-shirt from his dresser drawer—an old Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind shirt, his mother had loved the movie so he'd managed to find a pair for them—and shook the fold wrinkles out as he mulled the thought over; it was a plausible explanation, but Erik Lehnsherr wasn't in the business of lying to himself and he knew that's exactly what it was. A lie.

His jeans, a soft, faded pair from his college days, were pulled out of the back of his closet; he pressed them to his face and took a deep breath, checking for stench, and tugged them on when he couldn't smell anything. They were a bit tight, he'd gained a few pounds since he was 19, but Erik figured that would be a good if he was going to be looking for a one night stand.

He quickly stepped into the bathroom to check his reflection—he ran a hand across his cheek to check for stubble, it was fine—and his breath before grabbing his wallet, keys, and phone and heading for the door.

The music started as Erik was reaching for the door knob and it made him pause. He cocked his head and focused, trying to discern what song it was. He smiled when it clicked. It faded as soon as it touched his lips, he wondered if it was a sign.

_"Oh won't you stay? Just a little bit longer?"_

He shook his head. Now he was just getting desperate. A sign? Even if he believed in that kind of thing, this wouldn't be a sign. It was just his mind grasping at straws.

He yanked the door open with more force than necessary, angry at himself for being so pathetically caught up on someone who didn't know his name.

By the time Erik had the door locked and shut behind him, the Charles's music had stopped. It caused him to pause, usually once Charles started playing music he listened for hours.

It worried Erik for a moment until he mentally kicked himself and reminded himself that it wasn't he business.

That didn't stop him from freezing when the door beside him swung open as well.

A harried Charles Xavier stepped out with his fuzzy-slinky-on-a-leash trotting out after him.

Erik tried to ignore the pair as he brushed past, the night was supposed to be about getting over his creepy obsession and he wasn't going to indulge it now.

The plan worked until Charles and the furry-sausage walked into the elevator after him.

As soon as the doors slid together, Charles turned to face him.

Blue eyes widened and a smile spread across his face “Nausicaä? I love that movie, where’d you get your shirt? Ah, if you don’t mind me asking?” It came out rushed and the smile turned sheepish. The other cleared his throat.

 "Hello, I'm Charles," he introduced and held out his hand to shake.

"Erik," he returned, gripping the outstretched hand.

It was soft and warm and it took everything in him not to lift the hand up to his mouth and lick the webbing between those sturdy fingers.

"This is Max," Charles said once Erik released his hand, gesturing to the stumpy-legged-caterpillar.

Erik grins at him, a slight tug of the lips, but doesn't say anything.

Silence settled over them heavily for moments that stretched like hours before Charles turned to look at him again.

"Would it be weird, to ah, admit that I knew who you were before?" Red spread up Charles's cheeks and down his throat and Erik really, really, wanted to know how far down the flush went.

"I um, I've read your book, I mean," Charles rushed out before Erik could completely process the question he'd been asked.

"Really?" Was what came out of his mouth. Charles knew who he was? Had read his book? The thought made him feel electrified. Nerves fired and blood rushed, heat spread through his very core like it had never done before.

It was terrifying.

And amazingly thrilling.

“So what did you think?” Was it rude to ask that? Self-important? He decided he didn’t care; he wanted to know what Charles thought about something that he’d worked so hard on.

“I, well, I really liked the start and the middle, but the ending…..” Charles trailed off and looked at Erik carefully, as if he were checking to make sure Erik wasn’t going to attack him, before continuing on “it was rather dark, don’t you think?”

Erik shrugged. Life was rarely kind enough for any other ending, in his experience.

Charles stared “Oh my friend,” he sounded almost horrified but Erik tried to ignore the tone, Charles had called him a friend.

“Do you not truly believe that you can’t find peace, Erik?”

Erik ducked his head, almost tempted to hide from the other. Charles had seen right through to the heart of it, it seemed. Through the words and the prose he’d put between the world and himself, and cut straight through to Erik’s very being.

He swallowed and turned to look the other man in the eye “I don’t know.”

He looked away, “If it exists, I haven’t found it yet.”

A warm hand rested on his forearm, startling him in to turning back to look at Charles. The man’s eyes were soft and sad.

“Oh Erik, there’s so much more out there then pain and hatred, you’ll find it one day, and it will be amazing.”

Erik swallowed, he couldn’t look away but he didn’t want to look at Charles anymore.

“Maybe.” He said finally because what else could he say?

Charles smiled and Erik wondered if the other would be offended if he were to lean down and taste it. He bet such a beautiful smile would taste like the sun.

Before he got the chance to find out, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Too late.

He stepped out of the elevator and made his way across the lobby, trying not to feel disappointed that he’d missed what was probably his only chance to kiss Charles Xavier.

“Hey, um, Erik?” It was Charles and Erik turned to look at him.

“Would you like to walk with us? If you aren’t busy, I mean.” The second part was rushed out and Charles blushed.

Erik had to fight back a grin “I’m not busy,” it was the closest to an agreement that he could bring himself to utter. To hell with an anonymous fuck, a walk with Charles sounded much more satisfying.

Charles smiled brightly and Erik’s lips lifted in a small grin in return.

He gestured for Charles to lead the way and fell in to step beside him as Charles headed to the door. 

Later in the evening saw Erik collapsing onto his couch with a pen and a notepad in his hands, ideas for new novels dancing circles around his head.

Talking with Charles had given him several thoughts about new plots and perhaps even a sequel for his first published book _Brotherhood: Revenge for the Fallen_. 

He hadn't felt this motivated to write in years. Since he'd first started working on _Brotherhood_ , it seemed.

Losing himself in the long-missed rhythm, Erik leaned back and let an unfamiliar sensation wash over him. He thought it felt almost like peace.

Ideas and short snippets filled his notebook as he worked late into the night and eventually he heard Charles's music start up again and grinned.

He'd asked Charles about it during their walk. The younger man had grinned sheepishly and had admitted that any of the money he earned that didn't get spent on rent, utilities, or food went to buying used records. 

Erik had chuckled and complimented the other on his taste in music and Charles had lit up like a firecracker, telling Erik that his friends had often teased Charles about his 'old man' taste in music and clothing and about the fact that he preferred tea to coffee.

In turn Erik told Charles about how his mother used to dance around listening to the same songs Charles often played, and about the times that she'd managed to talk Erik into dancing with her; they were some of Erik's most cherished memories, and he'd never shared them with anyone.

It had been the best time he'd had in a long while and Erik wondered if being with Charles could always be like that, or if it was just a one-time thing.

No. It had to be more than that; he could feel it at the center of his very being.

With that thought lingering in his mind, Erik made his decision. He would swing by Charles's door and invite him along on his morning coffee run.

Content with his decision, Erik packed his things away for the night, stripped down to his boxers, and headed to bed for the evening. Morning couldn't come quick enough.

7 a.m. found Erik standing in front of his closet as he carefully considered his choices. Something that would attract Charles's eye, peak his interest in Erik, without making it look like Erik was actively _trying_ to gain the other's attention.

Finally he pulled out a pair of jeans— another pair from his college days, these had a hole above the left knee and towards his upper thigh on the right—and a dark turtle neck.

He shaved carefully and tabbed the faintest trace of cologne behind his ears. 

After that was done, he quickly shoved his feet into a pair of worn grey Converse and laced them up tightly.

With that he grabbed his things and headed to his door.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and opened the door; he locked it behind him and took another breath.

He could do it. He could.  All he had to do was walk up, knock on Charles's door, and ask 'would you like to go get coffee with me?'

Erik steeled himself and knocked on his neighbor's door twice.

When it opened, a scarcely dressed blonde woman was standing on the other side.

Erik took in her appearance subtly—long legs, an ample chest, and a sweet face, she wore an oversized t-shirt that proclaimed 'Columbia University' and nothing else that Erik could see— and felt his heart sink. There was no way he could compete with tall, blonde, and beautiful. Especially when she looked like she was Charles's age.

The girl, however, was entirely unsubtle about her own inspection of Erik, and her eyes lingered over his shoulders and crotch.

Fire ignited in the pit of his belly. How dare she date Charles? How dare she date Charles and then have the, the _audacity_ to check Erik out?

Before his thoughts got any further, a smile curved at the woman's lips "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Erik said, somewhat thankful that his voice sounded stronger than he felt, "I'm Erik and I live–" he started to explain, hitching a thumb to point towards his door, but he was interrupted by a squeak and a blinding smile. 

"Are you here to see my brother?" She was bouncing lightly in her heels.

Before Erik could answer she'd turned away and started to yell.

"Charles! Charles, your hot neighbor is here to talk to you!" she turned back for a moment to leer at him before ducking her head back into the apartment "And he's even hotter than you said he was!"

Erik felt heat start rise to his cheek, but he tried to push it, and the embarrassment stirring in his gut, away.

The thudding of feet running across wooden floors filled the air behind the girl and before Erik really knew what was happening, Charles shoved the girl (his sister?) out of the way.

"Erik!" a dazzling smile was lighting up Charles's face and Erik felt it like a punch to the stomach, "I'm sorry about my sister," he sounded chagrined and Erik waved it away.

"Can I," Charles hesitated for a moment before he seemed to resolve something "Can I help you, Erik?"

Erik shifted nervously from one foot to the other and cleared his throat "I uh, I was wondering if you'd like to go get some coffee? With me?"

"Yes!" Charles said immediately and then blushed heavily "I uh, I mean, yeah, sure."

Erik grinned widely, watching as the other man's blush deepened "You can bring Max," he said, offering the other man a chance to escape and collect himself.

He also, despite himself, rather liked the furry-slinky—a corgi, Charles had explained—and not just because he was Charles's dog. Max was smart and friendly, listening to all of Charles's commands easily.

Charles shot him a grin and scampered off, presumably to grab Max's harness as the dog himself was pushing past Charles's sister to nudge at Erik's legs, begging for pets.

"So..." the girl drawled, watching as Erik crouched to pet Max.

Erik ignored her.

"I'm Raven," she introduced "Charles's sister, and you," he looked up then "I'm guessing you're the handsome neighbor he's been drooling over since he moved in."

Erik shrugged, going for nonchalance; he wouldn't know, but he sure as hell hoped Charles had been drooling over him.

Before the girl, Raven, he should remember that if he wanted to date Charles, before _Raven_ could make another attempt at conversation, Charles appeared behind her. He'd changed his clothes and had Max's leash and harness dangling from his hand.

Charles quickly clipped Max into his harness and looked up at Erik with a grin "Ready to go?"

Erik doesn't reply verbally—he doesn't think he can, too thrilled that Charles had agreed to go out for coffee (it counted as a date, right? Charles had agreed to go on a date with him)—but nodded his head.

* * *

 

Erik awoke to hand stroking his naked chest and he grinned, reaching up his own hand to cover it.

"Good morning," he murmured, turning his head to look at his bed-partner.

Charles was turned on his side, holding himself up on one arm and head propped in his hand, and looking down at Erik with a soft smile and sleepy eyes. He curled his knees up and the soft cotton of his pajamas brushed Erik bare leg.

Even after nearly six weeks off constant coffee dates and romantic dinners, they still hasn't actually had sex—Charles had explained with a cheeky grin that he wanted to keep Erik interested, so there would be no fucking until he was sure Erik was _interested_ (he'd had a look in his eyes at the time, and Erik was fairly sure that what Charles meant was frustrated because Erik had never had a case of blue balls as bad as he had now).

Still, Erik was just fine with that (painful case of blue balls aside, there were only so many nights he could spend alone with his hand before even that didn't cut it anymore) because he was slowly learning the answers to every question he'd wondered about the other man.

Erik hadn't known the level of peace he felt with Charles was possible, but it seemed like the other man had made it his mission to prove Erik wrong.

At the foot of the bed Max wiggled and barked twice, the signal that he wanted breakfast.

Erik chuckled and rolled out of bed and tugged on the shirt that was lying on his nightstand.

 He scooped the corgi up, tucked him under his arm, and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Charles lounging lazily in the bed.

By the time Charles managed to drag himself into the kitchen, Max was crunching away at his dry dog food and Erik had managed to cook up to pancakes and was working on scrambled eggs.

Erik set the plate in front of Charles, who'd plopped heavily into one of the kitchen table's chairs, and smoothed a hand over his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"What are your plans for today?" Erik asked, lips still pressed to Charles's skin.

"Well," Charles hummed, reaching up a hand to gently stroke Erik's neck "since its Saturday, I figured I could run over to my apartment, grab some new clothes and my books, and maybe stay here with you while I study?" He could hear the smile in Charles's voice turn a bit naughty.

"Maybe you could reward me for studying so hard later, hm?" the fingers on his neck slipped down below the collar of his shirt and scratched lightly at the skin there. 

Heat bubbled in his gut and Erik grunted and pressed his lips into the skin of Charles's forehead a little bit harder. Little tease.

"After breakfast then," the nails on his back dug in for a second before Charles pulled his hand away "now go eat, breakfast is getting cold."

Once breakfast was finished and the dishes where tucked into the dishwasher, Charles set off to his own apartment to gather his school work and Erik collected his notepad and laptop.

He'd finally fleshed out the plot line for _Brotherhood_ 's sequel and he was anxious to finish his current novel and get to the sequel to his first book—the story that had been his baby for so long, for years before he ever even started writing it out.

To Erik's relief, his current novel—a crime-thriller with a dash of sex and romance to appeal to a wider audience—was flowing out of his mind a lot smoother now that the sex scenes' male character had stopped turning into Charles.

He set to work quickly, finding his 'zone' almost immediately. He didn't look up until Charles poked him in the side.

The brunette's face was less than an inch away from his and he was kneeling on the coach cushion farthest away from Erik, with his hands planted on the middle cushion.

"Yes?" Erik asked, lips tugging up in a smile at Charles's nest of hair—he'd clearly run his hands through it more than a couple of times.

"Can I borrow some paper?"

Erik gestured towards his office "Bottom drawer, I've got some notebooks in there too if you want one of those instead."

Charles acknowledged what Erik had said with a hum and padded into the other room. Erik turned back to his work.

He turned back to his work, placing the laptop on the coffee table and picking up his notes to look over them, but was quickly pulled away again at the sound of Charles's bare feet thumping quickly on the hardwood floors.

Erik looked up and his eyes widened, Charles was running toward him with _that_ notebook clutched in his hands.

He felt his face pale and he braced himself for impact. Why hadn't he gotten rid of that damn notebook, or at least hidden it better, Charles was going to think he was some kind of psycho stalker.

Instead of the fist to the face he expected, Charles flung himself into Erik's lap. The older man let out a grunt and brought his hands up to steady the body in his lap.

"You," Charles breathed heavily and then cut himself off to catch Erik's lips in a rushed and bruising kiss.

Erik moved his lips against Charles's, trying to keep up with the frantic pace while feeling a bit dizzy from the lack of air.

Charles broke away with a gasp "You," he said again, chest heaving "take me to bed right now," he demanded.

Erik reacted without thought, wrapping his arms tightly around Charles and springing up from the couch. Charles's legs came up to grip his hips as he stumbled to the bedroom, and Erik let out a groan at the friction and pressure it put on his cock.

Erin dropped the other to the bed and quickly scrambled up to stretch himself over the body on the bed, lips finding Charles's once more as his hands started to roam under the other's shirt.

Charles's hands slipped down to grab twin fistfuls of his ass and pulled Erik's pelvis closer to his "These jeans," Charles hissed "Drove me mad the first time you took me for coffee, do you know that?" he ground up into Erik, causing the older man to growl.

"I spent half the time fantasizing about slipping my fingers into those damned holes and just stroking the skin there."

Erik gasped at the image and but roughly down on a patch of skin just under Charles's ear "You should have," he growled around the skin "I would've let you."

"Fuck!" the other gasped "Off, I want them off of you right now."

Erik chuckled at the bossy tone but raised himself to his knees and made quick work of his shirt and then his jeans and boxers, pushing them both to his knees before lowering himself back onto Charles (who had also taken to ridding himself of his clothing) and kicking them off from there.

He groaned at the skin to skin contact and reached out a hand, fumbling for the lube he’d left on top of the night stand.

Lifting his hands off Charles to pop the cap and squirt a good amount in his hand, Erik intended to wrap both of them up and jerk them off together but froze when Charles shook his head.

“In me, in me, in me in me,” Charles chanted, spreading his legs wider in invitation.

Erik growled and let his fingers slip between the other’s ass cheeks. He circled one around Charles’s entrance teasingly, letting out a deep throated chuckle at the other’s frustrated whine. He covered those red lips with his own and gently pushed his finger in up to the knuckle, catching the sound Charles made with his mouth.

A few quick thrusts had Charles wiggling and begging for more, trying to work himself back onto Erik’s long finger and without a warning Erik straightened his middle finger and let Charles buck himself down on two instead of the one he was expecting.

A loud groan tore itself from Charles’s throat and Erik bent down to press kisses along the pale torso under him as he worked his fingers in and out, scissoring them ever second or third thrust.

“Another!” Charles demanded with a gasp, in between his mindless groans and whimpers.

Erik complied with ease and worked a third finger in with some resistance.

 Soon enough, Charles was ready for Erik and he reached over to his nightstand once more, fumbling for a condom.

Charles caught his wrist “I’m clean, you?”

He nodded frantically and Charles pulled Erik’s hand toward his mouth, sucking his fingers in. The clever pink tongue laved over his fingers, swirling around his middle knuckles and lapping at the pads.

It caused Erik’s movements to stutter for a moment before he snapped back into action.

Yanking his fingers out of Charles’s entrance he fumbled once more with the bottle of lube. With frantic, proficient jerks, he slicked himself while Charles continued to tease his fingers.

“Ready?” He asked, pulling his hand from Charles’s mouth.

“Yesss!” Charles hissed, bucking his hips.

Erik nodded and began to thrust himself in a slow, smooth glide, stopping every so often to give Charles time to adjust and only moving when Charles gave the okay.

When he finally sheathed himself fully, Charles let out a sigh and lifted his legs to wrap them around his lover’s waist.

“Move damn you,” Charles huffed out.

Erik grinned, brushed a strand of sweat dampened hair from Charles’s forehead, and replied with a slightly breathless “Well since you asked so nicely.”

His thrusts where slow and even, and as drawn out as Erik could stand for them to be.

The pace lasted for as long as he could stand it too before Charles’s pleading and his own needs got the best of him.

He lost his rhythm as Charles’s walls squeezed down on him. Harder, faster, his hands gripping down on Charles with a bruising grip.

“Yes!” Charles screamed as Erik nailed his prostate. He continued to let out howls of pleasure as Erik focused on that spot, hitting it every third thrust.

The older man grunted and ducked down to kiss his lover once again, he wasn’t going to last much longer and he slipped a hand down between them to pump at Charles’s cock as he felt his balls draw up.

Charles came with a breathless scream and Erik followed after him. His orgasm ripped through him with an earth shattering forcefulness, and he could feel his arms giving out.

Beneath him Charles panted, loose limbed, and Erik groaned as he tried to muster up the energy to roll off of him.

Before the older man could, Charles brought his arms up and scratched them lightly over Erik’s shoulders.

“That was, wow,” Charles said dazedly and Erik rumbled out a laugh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Those letters,” Charles starts when he’s got his breath back “You should write more of them,” his eyes dart to Erik’s and he grins “and maybe you could send them to me this time.”

Erik felt a blush rise to his cheeks “You weren’t supposed to find those.”

Charles’s grin widened “I figured, but, I’m glad I did.”

Erik placed a kiss to the center of the other’s collar bones “I am too.”

* * *

 

A year later, Charles sat beside Erik at the releases of _Brotherhood_ ’s sequel; hand intertwined with Erik’s left as he signed copies with his right.

After the crowd had cleared, Erik pulled a copy from the bag. Immediately Charles noticed it was different, the cover still read _X-Men: Redemption for the Lost_ in bold across the top and E. Lehnsherr at the bottom, but the cover’s coloring was a bit different, more blues and yellow danced across the background behind the emblazoned X that stretched across the book jacket, and it felt a little bit heavier than the copies Charles had been passing to Erik all evening.  

At Erik’s gesture, he opened to the first page; the dedication.

_For Charles Xavier, who showed me that peace_ was _an option._

Charles gasped at the first line, hand snaking out to catch Erik’s, and he nearly dropped the book completely when he read the next line.

_Will you marry me?_

It was printed on the page along with the rest of the page and he squeezed Erik’s hand so tightly that his own ached.

His head cocked to the side when he realized the page was bumped up slightly in the middle. A frown tugged at his lips but fell away when he turned the page.

A letter set neatly tucked between the dedication and the page of the first chapter with a ribbon glued to it, hanging from the ribbon was a smooth engagement ring.

He almost tore the letter he pulled the ring from the ribbon so fast. The book fell to the table with a thump but he paid it no mind as he flung himself at Erik.

“Yes, of course, yes!”

A wide grin stretched across Erik’s face as he wrapped Charles up in a tight embrace, joyful laughter spilling from his chest.

“I love you,” Charles repeated over and over, the words muffled by Erik’s chest.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please comment to let me know what you thought.
> 
> You can follow me at NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com


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